


Hell And Flesh

by Mandom



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20733884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandom/pseuds/Mandom
Summary: It's just about some guys dealing with the fact they're in hell. This my own original work.  Everything I write is subject to change due to the direction of the story or working on any issues with my writing. I'm doing this out of passion for this world I have in my head.All criticism is more than welcome, I want this story to be the best it can be. Thank you for viewing my work.





	Hell And Flesh

Prologue I  
Grains of sand fall one by one off of Jacob’s black hair. He’s awakened by the pure heat of hell. His plain white shirt, stained with blood caused only by a gun wound. Yet no emotions of pain came to him, that wound felt as though it was apart of his body. Memories fly back into him as a soul entering a body. A revelation is realised. He’s dead.

He pushes himself upwards to understand his location. Believably dumbfounded, he sees all his surroundings to finally see what Hell or the afterlife actually is. Exceptions of a land of fire and blood red caves of endless torture were in his mind before a weird realisation and disappointment came over him.  
It was a lonely Desert. Nothing else. Just sand and stone. Dull yellows and oranges. There seemed to be small caves poking out on large canyons but nothing else.

Feeling every part of his body, his flesh, his skin, eyes and fingers. He stretched as he did before his death. An internal debate rises inside of him leaving him with a single question. What now? Thoughts fly through his head before assembling a simple solution.

Walk until something happens. He moved forward towards nothing but sand and stone. Each step damaged him. A fear, pain and a faint hope is the only things he felt in that walk. A fear of the unknown, the pain of this newfound journey and a single hope that this could be a chance for him, a chance for his own personal redemption.

Prologue II  
A sandstorm so dense you would be blinded if you opened your eyes had been raging for the last few hours. Deacon, was completely and utterly destroyed. Most of his clothing had been ripped to pieces, leaving him wearing barely anything. Chunks of flesh either missing or hanging off his torso, arms and legs.

Even his own heart was visible. It was a complete miracle he could even stand let alone walk. The only thing that came through his mouth were moans of pain. Unable to see, he wandered aimlessly before finally collapsing. He fell face first into the sand. Deacon’s soul had finally given in to the pain. Those chunks of flesh started to turn to ash and sand, then his arms and legs started turning as well. 

The pain of hell had overcome his soul. Turning his, like many others into sand. The sand that creates this hell. As his soul was about to finally die, a man appeared in front of him. He held a single pure white feather. The most beautiful thing Deacon had seen. It shined through the dense sandstorm and could be noticed from miles away. The man’s appearance though the feather became clearer as well. Red robes, eyes and mouths across it. 

The man had dark tinted goggles on, which covered most of his face. Deacon could barely make out the details of him.  
He crouched down towards Deacon. He rolled over Deacon’s body, exposing his heart. With the feather in hand, he stabbed the stem of the feather into Deacon’s heart. The feather started to bury itself within Deacon’s heart. Deacon’s soul had gained new life. His body stopped turning into ash.

He began to choke, for as inside him everything was being changed. The Robed Man picked up Deacon. He began to walk towards something. Something unknown to Deacon.


End file.
